


Coaptation

by velero



Series: Residuum [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Isaac Lahey, Old Friends and New Parameters, POV Scott McCall, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:59:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velero/pseuds/velero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott reflects on his renewed friendship with Stiles at a beach party--and deals with an unexpected hitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coaptation

The smell of burning s'mores and wieners mixed with damp vegetation, but the rain from earlier was holding off for now, so that was cool. And even though Jared and Greenberg, of all people, had somehow ended up jointly in charge of the bonfire, it was actually burning great, with a mass of people, mostly from their senior year, dancing in its big circle of light. Looming black shadows blended into and out of each other as the couples--and moresomes!--danced to the blasting Top '40s playlist somebody had contributed to the cause.

The cause being Friday night of Spring Break: their _last ever_ Spring Break! Scott grinned to himself as he took a rest from dancing at one edge of the swirling circle. He guzzled a coke, half-sorry the beer freely flowing all around him wouldn't do him any good. He wasn't sure who'd bought it, but Danny, for one, had good fake ID and managed to look believably old enough to fit the ID, and he doubted Danny was the only one.

Speaking of.... He scanned the writhing dancers for Danny, and, yeah, there he was with his shirt off, long torso catching the light as he twisted and spun, highlighting his magnetism and grace. Scott watched, mesmerized for a minute, before managing to pull his eyes away to look at Danny's partner: Ethan. No surprise there.

Familiar uneasiness fizzed in his gut. Danny clearly liked Ethan a hell of a lot, though Scott wasn't sure whether that was just for Ethan's looks and good sex, a casual hook-up, or because Ethan was actually a nice guy when he and Danny were alone together. He thought someone must've told Danny about Ethan's history, but maybe not? Scott hadn't mentioned it because he and Danny had never hung out; that is, like, they hadn't hung out _before_. With Jackson gone, the only person who'd ever really known Danny before the whole werewolf thing happened was Lydia--and she seemed to be as into Aiden as Danny was into Ethan, despite her knowing everything Aiden and his twin had done.

But Lydia hung out with people for her own reasons, and both she and Danny had seemed equally fine with Jackson, the biggest douchebag of their year. She might share confidences with Allison, but she certainly didn't with Scott, so he had no idea what was really going on with those four.

But, whatever, they were all friends of a sort now, here in this new life he'd finally--mostly--accepted and was settling into. His own life fell into _before_ and _after_ sections in his head, and the _after_ was finally morphing into _now and forever_. And the twins had been working to gain his trust. They wanted a pack; they seemed outright afraid of being omegas, or _bitches_ as they referred to them. Scott hadn't cared about being an omega; he shuddered at the memory of Derek's attempts to insist they were "brothers" and that Scott should join Derek's pack. Yeah, right. He might not be as smart as Lydia and Stiles, but he wasn't that dumb. Derek was a creep who got people hurt. An untrustworthy creeper wasn't his idea of a brother.

He could actually feel and appreciate the added strength from having a pack now, though, so he had some sympathy for Derek's attempts to get that security for himself however he could. He'd just never be okay with Derek's methods back then.

But Derek wasn't a problem these days. He'd come back to town, but he kept to himself; almost religiously so, given how hard Isaac had to work to pin him down to even occasional meetings. He knew Isaac had some lingering feelings for Derek, and he was okay with that, could even understand why Isaac still felt a mild attachment to Derek. Derek had given him the bite at the lousiest time in Isaac's life, when he was a victim and the bite had offered strength and the ability to protect himself. Derek had also taken him in when Isaac had nowhere else to go, and no one who cared about him. Scott had a hard time wrapping his mind around what it must be like to be sixteen and have absolutely nobody who gave a damn about you or was willing to help you, but he could imagine how terrifying and hurtful it must be.

He shook away the dark thoughts that made his stomach churn and focused instead on the bright, fast-moving crowd in front of him, his earlier happiness flooding him and making him grin. Isaac and Allison were dancing together, looking like--what was that word that kept coming up in English class?-- _complements_ to each other. Right? Isaac's light-colored curls had a gilt sheen in the firelight while Allison's thick dark hair gave her a shadowed, mysterious look, like she was made of the night itself, emerging from it.

Of course, Allison looked perfect in every type of light or dark there was. He felt his grin turn into what Stiles used to call his "goofy" look, but just shrugged happily.

Thinking about Stiles made him feel even goofier. He dragged his eyes away from Allison and searched the heaving mass of dancers till he caught sight of Stiles doing a dorky thing with his arms waving in the air and his lean body twisting in ways that would look tortured on most people, but somehow strangely natural on Stiles. Then Stiles dropped his arms and leaned forward, and as the crowd shifted, Scott could see Stiles had draped his arms over the shoulders of those two new friends of his, Savvy and the Debate Club guy who looked uncannily like a clone of a young Denzel Washington. Brett, right? The three of them were laughing together, faces shiny with sweat in the flickering light from dancing and the fire's heat.

Stiles leaned forward, his forehead resting against each of theirs, looking totally comfortable and relaxed with the two of them. Scott swallowed at a hard lump that appeared in his throat. He was achingly glad to have Stiles back in his life, but, at the same time, there were parts of Stiles he no longer fully knew, as though his detailed geographical Stiles map had been switched for a pre-exploration one. Sometimes, he suspected some of the uncharted areas on his new map of Stiles were even bigger than he'd first thought, that there were mountains and rivers and whole towns hidden in areas simply marked _wilderness_.

And that was damned unsettling. He wanted to know everything about Stiles again, wished he could just sit somewhere with him and through some kind of interface _absorb_ everything Stiles had been through in the past year, all the feelings and the experiences that had changed him into this Stiles of today, who was familiar in all kinds of ways but, in others, had become almost a stranger.

But he was still Stiles, the same in all the important ways, and that was enough. Scott nodded firmly to himself. His life felt complete now Stiles was part of it again; and, with Stiles, the Sheriff, too, who'd been a regular part of Scott's life ever since he and Stiles had become The Inseparables, as Mom used to call them with a smile. The Sheriff had picked up the label, too, usually saying it with one of his warm laughs that was like a hug.

He was grinning again, probably goofily. Only Stiles and Allison had that effect on him. At least it was dark! Mostly. No one would be able to tell unless they got close.

The grin fell away as he noticed how easily Stiles was dancing with his two friends. Stiles looked completely relaxed, no flailing or urgency to step away, move, burn off his endless supply of extra energy. They looked relaxed with him, too. Stiles had draped an arm over each of their shoulders and they both had an arm around his back and the other around each other. Stiles and the Debate guy were both bent over to touch foreheads with Savvy, who was about Lydia's height, but didn't wear heels that Scott had ever seen.

Scott looked at the curve of Stiles' back, brightly visible in a white T-shirt like a beacon, and felt the shiver of gooseflesh raise the hair on his arms at how vulnerable it looked. One of the things he'd hated most when Stiles had separated himself from Scott and the rest of them was that he couldn't be there to protect Stiles if he ever needed it. He'd become acutely aware of just how fragile humans were since he'd become a wolf, with the strength and healing shit.

Anyway, Stiles had survived his year off on his own and everything was okay now, it was freaking great, because Stiles was back where he belonged at Scott's side, and new friends were always good, right? He reminded himself he'd resolved to try to get to know Stiles' new ones better. He'd get on with doing that soon as the Break was over. They must be okay since Stiles obviously liked and trusted them, had taken them into his life. The two of them didn't know anything about werewolves, and Stiles wanted it kept that way, but Scott and the others could handle that. Everything felt right in his world since he had Stiles back, and they could deal with freaking anything together just the way they always had.

The Inseparables, man, back together at last! He did a mental fist-bump, then felt like a dork.

He was turning away, heading to grab a hot dog before they all disappeared, when he caught movement at the corner of his eye. He turned to check it out and stilled, staring in disbelief. No fucking way!

Isaac ghosted up beside him, close enough for Scott to feel the warmth of his body. Isaac's voice was a ribbon of sound under the cover of the loud thumping music. "What's he doing here?"

"I have no idea." He spoke slowly, frowning as he watched Derek Hale, of all the unwanted and unexpected people to turn up at their party, standing creepily at the boundary of the lit area, looking, in his black jacket and pants, like a blot on the dark. He could see the gleam of Derek's eyes roaming over the dancers, like he was searching for prey. Not a fucking chance. Scott's fists bunched at his sides and he focused on controlling his breathing, his heartrate, trying not to give anything away.

Isaac's low voice was hesitant. "Should I go talk to him?"

He glanced at Isaac and shook his head. "Nah. It'll be okay. We'll just--" his shoulders tightened despite his efforts "--keep an eye on him."

He didn't even care if Derek heard him.

Isaac nodded and fell quiet beside him. Scott could see Allison watching Derek, too, having positioned herself at a right angle to Derek where she had a different view from his and Isaac's, and Derek couldn't see her movements without turning half-around. A surge of affection flooded him; Allison and her awesome hunter skills, always working to back up the pack. He shifted his focus back to Derek.

He didn't mind that Derek had come back to town; honestly, he couldn't care less if Derek stayed or left again. He hardly ever saw Derek. They seemed to hang out in different places, which suited him fine. And he could admit, if he had to, that Derek had been useful a couple of times this past year when his added strength--and, okay, his greater knowledge of supernatural stuff--had come in handy. He didn't trust Derek, though. He never had and couldn't see himself ever getting to that point. Not when Derek kept going his own way and did things like take out that feral wolf who'd been in town a few months ago, even though he'd known Scott had wanted to try to talk to the guy first, try to reason with him, see if they couldn't work out some sort of better solution.

But Derek had always been kill first, then shrug and walk away.

So, no, he couldn't see himself ever trusting Derek. Or wanting him anywhere near his pack, for that matter.

All that crap about them being brothers back when he'd been newly bitten. Hell, no. Being turned into a werewolf against his will didn't give him some kind of mystical connection to any random werewolf who happened to be around. Which was really all Derek was or ever had been.

As long as Derek kept away from his pack, though, and didn't threaten anybody he cared about, he could forget about the guy most of the time.

Though Stiles maybe saw a bit of him these days? Stiles had said Derek was filling the Sheriff in on the supernatural and werewolf powers, answering all the Sheriff's questions. Scott gnawed at his lower lip. He should probably talk to Stiles, remind him to keep his guard up with Derek. Damn, he probably should've thought of doing that sooner. Derek couldn't turn anyone now, thankfully, but that didn't mean he was harmless--

He was jerked out of his thoughts by Isaac's hiss: "He's coming over."

He looked up sharply and saw Derek moving toward them with the smooth ease of a hot knife through butter. He tried to keep his own muscles loose, but ready. No need to be tense. If there were a problem and he wanted help, Derek probably would've phoned: contacted Isaac, if not Scott directly. Not that Derek had ever done that, but he supposed it could happen. Though Derek seemed too relaxed for there to be a problem; everything about the way he was moving was casual and kind of...open. Scott was used to seeing Derek closed off and scowling, not looking calm and almost normal, skirting the ring of dancers with long strides, his left side shadowed, his right firelit. Like, what was that thing called? A Janus. Two entirely different faces with only one visible at a time.

Despite his efforts, Scott tensed as Derek came close. Derek, however, just flicked his eyes at first Isaac, then him, nodded briefly, and...walked on. Past them.

He could hear Isaac's heartbeat, and his own. Both a little too fast, too revealing. Derek's though, damn him, was a steady, calm thump like he didn't have a single care, even with his back turned to two other werewolves.

He followed Derek's progress and his heart jumped into his throat as Derek stopped behind Stiles, who, oblivious, was still dancing loosely with his hands over both his friends' shoulders. Derek reached a hand toward Stiles' vulnerable back. Scott took an instinctive step in that direction, muscles bunching under him to leap, but then Derek was touching Stiles, hand flat and confident against the middle of Stiles' back in its thin T-shirt, and Stiles turned around.

And Stiles' face lit up, brighter than the bonfire, like it was reflecting the moon and the stars. Scott froze, staring, feeling Isaac like a statue beside him.

"Oh, my god." Isaac breathed the words with a disbelieving little laugh.

Scott just watched as Stiles flung his arms out and, with a laugh of his own that Scott didn't even have to strain to hear over the racket, said, "You came! Fuck, yeah!"

Stiles closed the small space between them and threw his arms around Derek, whose own arms slid around Stiles' waist as their bodies pressed together from neck to thigh and, hell: Stiles cupped the back of Derek's head and pressed his mouth to Derek's.

Scott blinked. Fucking rambos, how the hell could he've missed this? More had changed in the year Stiles had been missing in his life than he'd have bet on in a million freaking years. But Stiles getting together with _Derek Hale_? How did that even work?

Last he'd known, Stiles was still hung up on Lydia and still hadn't punched his V-card. And hadn't even liked Derek, far as Scott ever knew.

Or trusted Derek. Stiles had known better then.

A wave of mixed anger and sadness rolled over him in a nauseous cloud at the realization of just how much he'd missed of the entire year of his best friend's life, all the drastic changes Stiles must've gone through without him. And those firsts, those new experiences the old Stiles would've shared with him before, he guessed Stiles had shared with his new friend, Savvy, instead. He watched as Stiles pulled away from Derek, eyes still gleaming in the erratic light, and turned to face Savvy and Brett.

Holding Derek's hand. And Derek was holding Stiles' hand. In public. Still looking relaxed and, freakishly, smiling and charming as he greeted the other two.

"Hey, guys!" Stiles flailed his free hand at his friends. "You can carry on now without me! My partner has arrived."

 _Partner._ The hell?

Savvy's and Brett's teeth and eyes flashed in the dark as they waved, then merged into the dancers. Stiles turned back to Derek, sliding one arm around Derek's neck and the other around his waist as their bodies melded together without a hint of awkwardness. Like moving together like that was the most natural thing in the world.

The sick feeling returned with a wash of cold prickles down his back. Last he'd known, Stiles hadn't trusted Derek, but here they were slow dancing together at the perimeter of the crowd in that half-shadowed, half-lit space Derek favored. Stiles had always been more of a spotlight kind of guy. Now, watching them with their faces close together, bodies swaying in rhythm and talking too softly for Scott to catch even a word, he felt like Derek had seduced Stiles into his creeper world of shadows and stalking danger, tainted with death and destruction.

He started at the touch of a cool hand wrapping around his fist where it was pressing against his leg, and turned to see Allison.

"Let's dance." She tipped her head towards the crowd.

He nodded. He could keep a better guard on Stiles if they were with the mass of dancers rather than staring fixedly from the sidelines.

"Did you know?" Allison spoke into his ear on a breath of warmth against his cheek.

He shook his head. She gave him a smile that was a mix of _what the fuck, huh!_ and sympathy, then they danced silently. He didn't hear the music, just let Allison lead him. He tried to keep Stiles in view, without too obviously staring, and knew Allison would be doing the same when Scott had to turn his back on Stiles to keep up the pretense of dancing. And not stalking. Because Derek was the stalker, not Scott.

He cursed his stupidity. He'd written Derek off as harmless, just doing whatever he did with his days, and as long as Derek didn't go around killing anyone, it didn't matter what else he did.

Allison swung him around in a sharp turn and he glanced at her in question. She nodded toward the fire and he caught sight of Stiles heading for it, Derek following. Still holding hands. He took Allison's hand and they walked over to join Stiles as he grabbed a couple of cans of beer out of one of the coolers, tossing one to Derek, who looked at it wryly, then tossed it back into the cooler. Stiles popped the tab while laughing at him, then lifted the can in a mocking toast to Derek and took a long drink with his head thrown back. Scott gritted his teeth as he saw Derek's eyes fix on Stiles' throat flexing as he swallowed.

Stiles lowered the can and licked his lips, shiny in the light. His face lit up as he saw them.

"Hey, you two! Didn't see you here. Quite the crowd, huh. Our class might have more than its share of dickheads and idiots--also known as Jacksons and Greenbergs--but gotta give us all credit for throwing a helluva fine party."

"Yeah." Scott managed a smile. "Can I talk to you a minute?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "You can always talk to me, Scott. Well, unless I'm otherwise engaged in, uh, shall we say, more _pressing_ activities that you probably don't want to know about and I certainly wouldn't want you to interrupt." He waggled his eyebrows. Suddenly Stiles was talking with his eyebrows. What the hell!

"Yeah, about that...." He let the words trail off meaningfully and stared into Stiles' eyes.

Stiles stared back flatly as though he didn't understand. Bastard. He had to be just pretending not to understand, because there was no way Stiles had changed so drastically he couldn't understand their silent exchanges. No fucking way.

Stiles finally relaxed into a grin. "Well, you know how it is, funny things happen on the way to the forum."

Scott frowned. "What?"

Stiles laughed and threw an arm across his shoulders. "Aww, Scotty, my bro, your cluelessness about classic movies will never not be endearing." He leaned closer and whispered, "You share that trait with Derek, you know."

Scott seized the opening and whispered back, "Dude, you and Derek, seriously? Since when? I sure never the hell saw that coming!"

Stiles' laughter was bright as a flash of light. "Me, neither, trust me! Though I'm pretty sure Derek was even more surprised." Stiles winked at Scott.

He was hyperaware of Derek being _right there_ , standing beside Allison in his peripheral vision, still calm as hell, but watchful. And able to hear everything despite their whispers and the noise enveloping them.

He couldn't worry about that. "Stiles, you know he's danger--"

"Stop." Stiles' voice was hard, edged, all light and laughter vanished. "Don't go there, Scott."

A chill washed over him as Stiles dropped his arm from around his shoulders and stepped away from him, but he couldn't just let it go, not something this important. He grabbed the first argument his whirling thoughts hit on. "Does your dad know--"

Stiles' voice got flatter, his face even more closed off. "I don't keep secrets from my dad, anymore. I already told you that. And trying to use my dad against me? That's low."

Scott winced, because yeah. "You're right, sorry. I just--"

Stiles went to Derek and tangled their fingers together. His look at Scott was his no-compromise-and-take-no-prisoners gameface: only for real. Scott's gut churned in mingled panic and helplessness as Stiles spoke in a voice as direct as his look.

"Sorry, dude, gotta go. I'm feeling an urgent need to dance with my boyfriend." Stiles gave him an ironic salute and he and Derek turned and disappeared into the colorful swirl of dancers.

"Fuck." He sighed as Allison rubbed his hand. "I messed that up."

She shrugged. "Well, maybe he'll get over it or they'll break up. It's not like Derek has much of a track record with relationships."

"Right." He felt a glimmer of hope. "You think so?"

She grimaced, and Scott sighed. "Yeah, me, neither. Stiles is kind of like a barnacle when he attaches himself to somebody. I just can't see why--"

"Hey." Her voice was gentle and he looked at her, the dips and angles of her face smoothed and deepened by the flickering light. "I don't think you can force anything. Just accept it, if you can."

He nodded. Stiles had left once, for his dad's sake. From the steely look in his eyes tonight, he could walk away again, this time for Derek's sake. And that hurt, dammit, Stiles drawing a line for Derek, of all people, but.... He could deal. Scott sighed again, but straightened his back and made his voice firm and strong. "Yeah. I can do that."

This time, he outright hoped Derek did hear, and told Stiles.

\-----

Later, dancing with Allison and Isaac both, making the most of their time before the rangers arrived to break up the illegal party--they didn't appreciate bonfires at the lake without permission--with Lydia and Aiden beside them and Danny and Ethan within sight, he was relaxed and content with his pack safe around him. He fucking exulted in this habit they'd grown into of all of them gravitating toward each other when they started out as separate pieces, like a really cool instinct to band together even when there wasn't any danger or outward need pushing them.

A prickle at the back of his neck made him look up and scan the area, and he saw Stiles and Derek weaving their way out of the crowd--still holding hands, geez (which wasn't at all like the way he'd been hanging onto Allison's hand most of the night, because Allison)--and he broke away on an urge and hurried to intercept them.

"Hey."

"Scott." Stiles looked at him like he might smile or he might frown: entirely up to Scott.

He made his voice as warm and forceful as he could, wrapping up in it all his years of love for Stiles, all their experiences together that nobody else knew about. "I'm sorry about earlier. I was just startled, you know? But I was totally out of line. I know you know what you're doing." He took a breath, holding Stiles' eyes with a steady look. "And I'm glad you're happy, bro. That's all that matters."

He held out his hand. After a long moment in which Stiles studied him, head cocked to the side, Stiles gave a crooked smile and slapped his hand against Scott's palm. They did their ridiculously complicated, little kids' secret handshake, which they'd made up when Stiles had had to drop out of Cubs and Scott had insisted on dropping out, too, in solidarity, because they were The Inseparables. Then they'd invented their own little twosome club complete with secret signals and codes and, of course, the Handshake.

By the end of it, Stiles' face was alight again with laughter and Scott was laughing, too, while Derek was shaking his head with a bemused, almost indulgent look. Which was too weird, so Scott focused back on Stiles.

"We good?" he said hopefully.

"'course we're good, Scotty." Stiles' smile held all the old warmth and Scott absorbed it with a flood of relief and completion.

Then Stiles broke the moment with a slap on Scott's shoulder. "Except when we're bad! Speaking of which, gotta go!"

Scott startled himself with a snort of laughter as he watched Stiles and Derek disappear into the darkness with a last wave from Stiles before his white T-shirt was swallowed up in shadow.

Stiles was the same, but different; just like their old friendship, which had become this new terrain he had to get used to, update his old map. Do what he could to help make them as strong together as they'd always been. But that was okay because he could adjust, adapt. Accept. Yeah. Even if acceptance meant tolerating Derek as a kind of...extended family member.

His face scrunched involuntarily, but he sighed. Stiles had made the alternative clear enough tonight. And that? Was never going to be an option he'd choose.

As he turned to rejoin his pack, he was hit with the happy thought that Derek really might screw it up. Allison was right: Derek was freaking hopeless at relationships! Maybe an evil fairy cursed him in his cradle. At least a guy could hope.


End file.
